


Grimmchild of Hallownest

by BunHun



Series: Grimmchild of Hallownest [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Gen, Grimmchild is older, Hornet is queen, I swear I tried!, Lowkey GrimmGhost, Maybe not so lowkey, Radiance and Grimm are kinda siblings?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 14:08:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunHun/pseuds/BunHun
Summary: Post-"The Hollow Knight" ending where Ghost left behind the Grimmchild before being concealed at the temple of the black egg.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... there are a lot of works lately about Grimmchild and I felt inspired? Plus, it's a long way down from my school to my house and I was bored .w.  
> HAVE A NICE DAY AND THANKS FOR CLICKING! (✿´♡`)/❀❀❀

The dark but thin veil of the night had fell over the ruined Hallownest. There was no guarantee of saying if it was either dusk or daytime as the only difference would be that the blackness only turned obscurer, but on cloudy days you won’t be able to tell, and it was one of these: ebon than ever, as if it were to be the premonition of an incoming bad omen the poor villagers were unaware of.

          Ghost looked down at the precious charge they had been holding thus far in arms since the Grimmchild had fallen asleep on the last bench they had rested upon. They couldn’t blame the poor thing, to have fought so fiercely all the way up here from the very bottom… They placed the child on the metallic settee before accommodating themselves next to him as they stroked his wings, careful to, both, not injure nor wake him up.

          Several minutes had passed even thought it fell like merely seconds and they would have wanted this moment to last a little longer, but the undeniable fact was that his duty could not wait anymore: the forgotten crossroads were soaking in orange puddles of infection and, if it were to break free from the black egg temple by itself, who knows what other causality it could done?

          If they cared for this child of them, they would have to go and prove it by sealing the infection away…  For Grimmchild, for Hornet, the White Lady, their siblings and everyone else at Hallownest; for a better future for their kid… not even their own life was a cost too great.  


	2. Chapter 2

Quick steps fell over the solid, grey, stone with a clap followed by multiple other sounds of the likeness and scorching, scarlet, flames which were signature of the bug’s kindred. A needle-like nail passed fast, alarmingly close to the side of the insect’s head whom took this as a reminiscent to be more attentive of his surroundings as he ran the fastest his thin, but long, legs could take him. He had made it thus far keeping the precious charge from within his cape out of harm and refused to start yet again from zero; he turned around and shot a fireball at the smaller female’s feet careful enough to don’t land a hit on her but to slow her pace as she was only inches away from him.

          It worked, she stopped right on her tracks to avoid the horrid scorch the heated soil would do to her limbs, but when the tall bug was to sing victory, a silver string tangled around his legs and made him fall. Thinking fast, he held up his arm so even if he tripped the delicate flower would remain intact.

          “Not bad…”, said the female while untying him, “…but it could have gone better”, she finished.

          The other stood up, careful not to harm the plant but overall staid quiet, perhaps, to remain silent was a trait he had inherited from his parent.

         “Let’s go, Child”, she walked pass him.

          He nodded.

          His _training_ , as his aunt Hornet called it, would be usually like this since he had grown enough: being mercilessly chased all the way from the resting grounds to the temple while avoiding getting pierced by the woman’s nail or to gain any other wound. To receive a hit meant to break the flower, and, for it to wither, involved starting all over again. Of course, they did more aside this, but this was just part of their usual routine of _teaching_. “Get good”, she said brazenly when he failed.

          Before, he remembered —back when he was just a winged worm who just wanted to be back with his papa and maybe eat a flame or two— he’d follow Hornet by flaying by her side, maybe shortly behind so she guided the way, permanently careful to not bother his elder as she kept both of them unharmed from the aggressive life forms of the depths; but as he grew older, he’d start to be left off the pace to fend for himself however he could.

          He knew she was not the most affective type when it came into terms of showing it through conventional methods, but Grimmchild was well aware that her way of demonstrating it was to teach him to withstand for himself and even aiding him to polish his skills: either with the nail, spells, or with his fire magic.

          “We’ve arrived”.

          The Grimmchild nodded lazily with his eyes closed, pure darkness of his eyelids covering over his ocular globes the same colour of his fire to be revealed again when he opened them to behold the sight of the large building beyond him: one that was shaped as a big, black, egg.

          He placed the delicate flower down at the vase of the chamber’s sealed entrance, right next to the others that had decorated the tombstone before it and he trailed over the carves on the rock with his sharp digits.

          Hornet looked at him, there was something about the youth that unsettled her whenever they came to visit the black egg temple, the _grave_ of her two siblings.

          “Would he…?”, she shook her head at the thought. No. “Let’s go Grimm”, said she out loud.

          He nodded again and followed his aunt to the way back home, none of them heeding the heartrending mourning coming from deep within the lair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note here: if Hornet refers to Grimmchild as simply "Grimm", is to make things simpler.


	3. Chapter 3

Everything was pitch black, even for that of Hallownest’s standards, but Grimmchild feared not, for the dark was where he felt welcome the most. If it was due to his roots, or perhaps where he grew up, he did not know and most likely will never be certain, but it was not a question that plagued him.

He could hear murmuring and invisible, familiar, eyes laying all on him with the decaying masks of the fallen beneath. Was this a stage? Or perhaps a battle field? Maybe even something completely different? Nonetheless, it felt known enough; but it mattered not, for when he came back to his senses, everything vanished within his eyes.

Grimmchild yawned and fluttered his wings to land safely on the webbing-veiled floor, once on his feet, rubbing his scarlet eyes to sweep away the sleepiness. He felt light-headed, but it was most likely due to oversleeping, he had a free-of-training day thanks to royal business Hornet had to attend.

          He had decided he’d keep up with the customary routine, but he’d take his time into admiring the landscape of these lands while delivering the delicate flower and, perhaps, hang around Hallownest a little longer than usual.

…

          “Goodbye, dearie! Remember to take good care of yourself! You won’t like to ruin that beauty mark of yours, right?”, said Divine in a singing tone while waving him farewell as Grimmchild went off the tent, stepping pass the severed pair of limbs at the entrance and fixing his clothing to cover yet again the symbol on his torso that proved him the rightful heir of Hallownest.

          Grimmchild sat on the near bench after greeting twice on the day Elderbug —Whom, by now, had grown used to the youth’s unsettling appearance— and opened the map to think where to go next.

          The hive? No, he wasn’t feeling like boozing in the sweet smell of honey.

          Maybe the mantis village?... No, it was truth that auntie Hornet had helped into making officially —as he remembered the charm his parent would wield— the passes with these honourable warriors (her reign being neighbour to the other’s, it was bound to happen). Yet, he couldn’t stop thinking that, maybe, even now he unsettled the poor mantises with his presence after… _the incident_. He felt slightly guilty at the sole reminiscence of the success, but back then he was still young; now he knew better and could distinguish between friend, foe and easy prey.

          He sighed and threw his arms to his sides in desperation as the map fell rather heavily —due to the markers he had used— into his lap, Elderbug, noticing this, spoke up.

          “Did you know the caverns continue even below the capital? Few have ventured that deep, so the details are scant”, he paused before continuing. “Those who made it back told of impossibly old structures and roads formed as though the rock itself possessed a will”.

          With the old bug’s description, a place popped onto his mind, somewhere his parent had taken him long ago to feed on the scarlet flames: _The ancient basin_.

          Grimmchild bounced off from the seat and hugged Elderbug, careful to not break the delicate flower his parent had given the senior and nesting his head under the old man’s shin, purring resonating within his throat.

            “My, my…”, Elderbug patted his back. “What a sudden outburst of affection, young one, but I’ll have to say thanks you”.


	4. Chapter 4

Back when he was younger, aunt Hornet wouldn’t let him explore these depths despite the closeness to their home, Deepnest. He won’t lie that it, somewhat, bothered him; but made him even more curious about what lied beyond.

          Grimmchild jumped through the rocky platforming he remembered having fought at his parent’s side against the Grimmkin Nightmares, part of his father’s troupe. He stopped for a second now… He felt the nostalgia cling into his heart and drag it towards the deepest and darkest bottom… The youngster won’t deny it: he missed his parents.

          The bug dropped on his knees and curled his back in a lame attempt to hide himself on his cape, it remembered him how he’d hide in either of his parents’ and nuzzle against their chests while curling his tail around them, folded on his own wings to keep warm and comfortable.

          And, though he were the living image of his father, Grimm, ( _the nightmare king)_ , and the spikes on his head had grown to be shorter, thicker, versions of his parent’s horns, ( _the (former) king of Hallownest,_ “the finest craft of Wyrm”, his dad used to say), both of them were gone now.

          The time with them was not long, he considered, but it was cherished. All these memories turned more bittersweet the more he thought about it.

          He winced, his otherwise invisible mouth had barely opened and crooked to let out a quiet sob, his sorrows crawled up to slowly drive him to the verge of tears, and when the first droplets began to form, he saw a ghostly figure pass by the corner of his eye.

         The youth snapped out from his trance and drew his nail, he had been foolish crumbling down in the open and letting his emotions run him. Turning around and not seeing anyone, he hissed in a hoarse voice that resembled his father’s, but not as guttural.

          “Who’s there?”, and in precaution of a surprise attack, scarlet flames were summoned all around himself.

          No reply was heard and he began to make his way back where he had already been and forth where he was yet to be: pass the tramways and deeper into these scarcely explored terrains, being guided by nothing but mere hunch and an invisible force calling him towards the deepness.

          Reaching a chamber that might have looked like a difficult-to get-lost maze, (yet full of small enemies crawling on most walls and floors, _shadow creepers_ , he believed); Grimmchild found the shadow newly by the bottom, now getting a better glimpse of it: they had an arched back; long, spiky horns at the top of his head much as his own’s or his parent’s with a crack going down from the base to these big and round set of eyes which when they laid them on the adolescent, it proceeded to scurry away.

          “Wait!”, Grimmchild shouted, the shadow not heeding attention, or at the very least, not stopping at all regardless the other’s pleading tone.

          The shadow rushed to what would be a dead end if not for the path continuing after a forceful double jump which the youth accomplished with a graceful sweeping of his wings that could double as a cape under another red one he wore on top.

          Arriving to the new area, he walked through the elongated path looking for the familiar shadow. “Hello?”, he called out unsure and with nail on hand just in case.

          Near the centre sat the decaying corpse of a sentry in white —now dim— armour, shoulder pads and helmet had grown broken with deep, black cracks, a regretful sight to behold for a loyal knight, yet beautiful on the Grimmchild’s eyes.

         Curiosity overwhelmed him, specially seeing the white dreamcatchers coming from the still body, and if by instinct he reached for the deceased’s shoulder blade, the sharp tips of his fingers barely brushing it when everything was engulfed by lustrous, silver particles.


	5. White Palace

Grimmchild winced half-closing his eyes: he wasn’t used to this many light nor shades of white. Where was him?

          He looked around: delicate metalwork all around, all of them shaped as spears, probably deadly if someone was not careful enough and were to fall on these sharp tips; but no idea of where he possibly was had struck him, however he came into the realization of what _could_ happen to him…

        “Auntie Hornet will so kill me!”, he squeaked.  

         The adolescent bug started looking around frantically for an exit, was there even a way out? Damn, he had no idea. His heart pounded brusquely against his chest as his mind strayed on all the possibilities: would she ground him?! Or even worse! Would she force him to listen to Zote’s egocentric rambling all they long?!

          He let go a gasp in horror and turned paler than ever; he could practically see how Hornet dragged him from the toes against his will while he screeched at the top of his lungs and sank his claws into the floor in fruitless attempts to save himself from dying… of boredom, but dying. Shivers went down his spine and Goosebumps up his arms, he had to leave quickly!

          He felt relieved when he saw someone at the distance, “Excuse me, sir, could you kindly give me di-…?”.

         The armoured bug swung the scythe-alike edge, throwing back Grimmchild and donning a deep cut not only on his cape, but on his chest as well. Some blood had soaked his wear and spilled on the floor due to the speed and trajectory the slash was made with. If his opponent didn’t kill him, Hornet for sure would for ruining the piece of cloth she had given him with these hard-to wash stains and tears. He grunted and drew his nail before thrusting forwards.  

         The kingsmould jumped backwards as Grimmchild expected it, he snickered. Fighting was like dancing after all, it was part practice and careful planation and part raw talent and improvising.

         They throwed their claw-blade as a boomerang yet again at him, Grimmchild jumped, landing few hits on the guard’s face and top of the head, using his nail as pogo to reach the behind; they turned with another slash of their weapon which the youngster dodged by briefly turning into bats.

          While the blade made its way back, Grimmchild thrusted forwards to stab through the other’s chest with his blade engulfed in scarlet flames to deliver a final blow. The bug’s white cuirass cracking and soon shattering into fragments that scattered everywhere in a shower of small silver figures.

          Grimmchild bowed at an invisible public and the strange ebon being that had come out from the armour, as signal that they had given a good spectacle, but the show was now over and so the bug’s life, (or at least, its temporal ability of movement). As the corpse began to melt away, the only proofs of a _dance_ taking place were the remaining metallic pieces of cuirass and the few droplets of blood on the floor. The son of the actor and the knight looked up at the imposing gate before continuing on his path through these colourless areas in search of an exit, he stepped into the white palace.  

…

It was a peculiar place: the growing plants had no green nor pink as these on Greenpath, it all was white, as covered in ashes. The dreamcatchers could be seen far away like spinning mandalas and the lanterns dangled from the roofs.

          The creatures were different as well, all he had seen thus far seemed to be armoured and made of a black substance at the inside; except for these small inoffensive bugs that resembled few of the Hallownest inhabitants; Grimmchild found it intriguing how they seemed puzzled at first sight, but as they checked him from top to bottom and their small, dead, eyes fell on his chest, they bowed recognizing the mark.  

          Another thing that called Grimmchild’s attention was the absurdly difficult security system (or at the very least he thought that was it, as he found no other reasonable explication as to why the place would be infested with saws and other kind of sharp objects). His height had proved it even harder of what it looked at the start, although the abilities inherited from his father had given him a rather generous handicap allowing him to go through long distances on the areas full hazards and squeeze through small openings almost unharmed.

          It had been almost easy for him due to his birth right, but he couldn’t imagine the pain someone without his powers would have to face. Maybe he was overthinking, (as this was a plain of the unconscious), but he wondered how would the royal retainers or kingsmould would have made it pass the saws… The small bug subjects didn’t look particularly adventurous nor agile and the taller ones had limited movement in that thick armour.

         Talking of the devil, he arrived at a lifter after passing two or maybe three corpses of kingsmould. He was somewhat grateful they had already been dispatched as after so many jumping, climbing and dodging, he didn’t feel like fighting anymore.

          More corpses were found once the lifter reached its destination, one after another; the final one, being on the centre of the room: on a throne which surrounding resembled that of the mark on his chest, the corpse of a bug with an ornament of horns on the top of his head and as pale as the ashes that fell upon Kingdom’s edge laid still.

          Grimmchild tilted his head to a side in curiosity, getting the glimpse of a familiar, round, object sticking ever so slightly out from the shell’s cape. He rummaged around the corpse’s clothes to go on and try to retrieve the item, the carcass fell to the floor and the small white piece rolled out.

          The youth bowed to pick up white fragment and stared at it, he could have sworn to have seen it somewhere before, but before the cause of such a resemblance clicked into his mind, dreamcatchers began to bloom until his sight was engulfed in pure white.

…

Grimmchild grunted while pushing himself up with arms that trembled with the sudden atmosphere change as it had made him dizzy and now he felt light headed.

          “This way, queen Hornet!”, he barely heard with his senses yet adjusting.

          “Damn!”, he swore under this breathe.

          Trying to hide from his aunt and her subjects, he ran towards the opposite direction he heard the voice coming from, only to stumble into the smaller female: her arms crossed at her chest and though her face remained most likely unreadable due to her breed, he knew she was displeased.

           The youngster gulped while shrugging. “Am I grounded?”

           “You wish”.  

          She took him by the horn and proceeded to drag the taller bug to a stag station he didn’t even know.

…

Grimmchild nodded, he was falling asleep when someone bonked him at the back of his head to jolt him awake.

          “Ah!”, he cried out, not in pain, but in surprise as _Life Ender_ struck the top of his head.

          “Listen to your elders when they’re talking to you, cur!”, scolded Zote the mighty. “ _Pfah_! Just as your parent!”.

          And all Grimmchild could hear afterwards was complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boi! If you had read thus far I gotta say thanks a lot! ❀❤ ( ;♡;) (I'm terrible but I try!


	6. Chapter 6

There was not much he could do while grounded; at least Hornet had taken pity on him and he was grateful for that: he couldn’t understand how Bretta was able to bear that grumpy old bug…

          He finished sewing back together the red cape which resembled his aunt’s and looked at his job: the scratch was barely noticeable, but perhaps could use something as ornament such as Hornet’s cloak that she had decorated by placing a charm ( _weaversong_ ), by the collar.

          Grimmchild took a box full of charms from under a spiderweb veil: most of the charms had been either inherited to him from his parents or given to him as presents by Hornet, but there were still the few ones he had gotten himself such as _carefreesong_ , after learning few things about Brumm and bidding him farewell, he thought it was the right thing… besides, he wouldn’t be able to see him the same way knowing the things he said on this very room and how it could had threatened his very existence…

          Grimmchild sighed and continued to look through the charms, he wanted one that would be easy to perceive, but it was a hard choice to make on this big collection of his that he felt so proud of; the merchant Salubra had said it made him a rather handsome bug, she was really nice to him when he was younger and used to visit the slug more often.

          He went through _Grubberysong_ and _Grubberfly’s elegy_ , but the cute designs and colour pallet crashed with his general appearance, no. Maybe _Dashmaster_? He’d think about it. _Sprintmaster_? He snickered at the thought, it’d be fun to play some pranks with that enchanted speed... That’s when he found the other half of the white charm he had recently gotten.

          Just as thought, both pieces fit perfectly: now it was good as new; a jack- ‘o-lantern smile crept onto the adolescent bug’s face until he noticed something was off; not with the charm, but with his surroundings.

          He turned to his side brusquely with his nail on hand and the shadow he had seen the last day was there, watching him fix the charm from over his shoulder, the shade looked rather curious…

          _For how long had it been staring?_ But, if they hadn’t harmed him before, Grimmchild doubted it’d do it now, so, instead drawing his nail at it, he offered a closer look of the charm.

          They took it and carefully stared at it with what Grimmchild thought as a pensive expression, (but perhaps, it was just his imagination). _How intriguing…_

          The shadow, with the charm still on its tendrils, tugged at the other bug’s cape and floated towards the entrance of the room; its intentions immediately were made clear, they wanted him to follow outside.

          Grimmchild shook his head, “I cannot go, my aunt grounded me”.

          The shadow remained persistent and tugged once again, their grip hardening as it pulled the adolescent closer to the door; Grimmchild noticed the weavers had fallen asleep, _a peek outside wouldn’t hurt._

          Sticking his head outside, he turned from side to side to make sure there were no more guards at the surroundings. Seeing nothing, Grimmchild held the shadow by the tendril and tiptoed pass the sentries.

          “Okay, let’s go; but we better comeback before my auntie does”.

          The shadow nodded and left the room, going pass Grimmchild to guide him, he followed closely behind with careful steps to not wake up his aunt’s subjects.

          Not long after their departure, the queen of Deepnest stepped in.

          “Grimm?”.

          She looked around, the child could be beyond doubt mischievous when bored, but the more Hornet searched for him, the less likely it seemed he’d pop out to surprise her; she quickly began to grow anxious. With her hands now made fists around her needle, she ran outside the room.

            “Find prince Grimm!”.

…

The youth and the shadow had gone pass the ancient basin and into an area Grimmchild hadn’t even seen before, partially because his busy schedule, and partly as he had never adventurer deep enough, knowing his aunt would be against the idea.

          “What’s this?”, he asked, looking around and reading a luminescent near tablet.

          “ _Higher beings, these words are for you alone. Our pure Vessel has ascended. Beyond lies only the refuse and regret of its creation…”_

          Before Grimmchild could finish reading, the shadow nudged him gently towards the gate with the brand of the Wyrm engraved onto it; when the youth stepped forth, the mark at the door began to shine — the one at the youth’s chest had worked as a key — and after a fine line appeared, the entrance opened.  

          The shadow headed in first to the newly discovered chamber and bobbed their head to sign the youth to follow, he complied without hesitation but was surprised to see his guide stop him abruptly.

          Grimmchild tilted his head, wondering _why would the shadow had stopped him when it was whom wanted him to come here in the first place?_

          His questions were answered when the shade took lightly his cape into its tendrils and pinned the charm where it would be over the youth’s chest and slightly at his left. He couldn’t help but think the shadow knew something he didn’t, but he’d leave the suspicions for later. 

         Grimmchild smiled, looking down at the charm on his chest, “Thanks”.

         The shadow nodded and jumped down the metallic platform, fluttering its way down into the abyss, followed by the void and scarlet flame hybrid.

          The teenager found puzzling how his guide seemed to know the place so well… Knowing exactly where to glide to another platform and avoid the spikes regardless not paying attention at the floor at all… not that it minded — as the shadow floated — but… _Could it possibly had been here before?_ After all, _“Hallownest is full of wonders”,_ or something of the liking was what his uncle Quirrel used to say, these words had become a foggy memory with the pass of years.  

         But just as Hallownest was full of wonders so it was full of horrors. Grimmchild jumped into a near platform and went cold as he gazed upon the decaying bodies and skulls of beings much alike his parent; these vessels laid discarded as old rag dolls, being of no use at all but to make an eerier atmosphere…

         He walked on, just to being received with the resounding cracking of the skulls bellow his feet and an obscure force bursting from bellow these remains; the void within growing restless as the youth drew near almost by instinct, now his attention focused on this perplexing power that crushed these old bones out of its way to create a new path.

        Grimmchild jumped down the newly created aperture without thinking twice, if it was either the child’s curiosity or thirst for adventure, the shadow didn’t know, but it found certain kind of proudness on the bug’s enthusiasm or perhaps just a reminiscence of _how a certain bug before the youth had been eager to know more about this world that surrounded them…_ It shook his head, there was no point in mourning over these distant memories now, the shade rushed to follow the teenager.  

        The creak of these masks was not something Grimmchild was comfortable with, nor it was how these catacombs were most likely build on only the empty shells of what used to be a being much alike to his parent, he wasn’t a fan of the bones that flew when he stepped forth or back, nor he was of the idea of having to squeeze through so small places, his capes would most likely get caught on.

Flying would be probably the better option here. With a graceful flap of his cape, Grimmchild wrapped himself on his wings and in the blink of an eye the tall bug was replaced with several smaller ones that retained still few traits of his larval stage: them all completely dark as his companion except for one with glowing, scarlet, eyes.

        The vampire fluttered through these tight corridors, the more he adventurer into the depths, the eerier the air grew. The roaring of powerful gusts of inexistent winds and quiet whispers of the damned souls immersed his hearing.

       He gritted his teeth, the sensorial stimulation was overwhelming, the mourning of these shadows pierced through his skull like bullets and collided in the inside of his head, mashing his brain, worsening progressively with the image of their forever still faces making the floor. Resisting the urge to scream, he pressured his pace, not stopping until he had reached bottom and pass the shade gate, he found a chamber with a pitch-black egg.

         Curiously, he drew closer and saw himself upon a reflection on the smooth surface. Grimmchild tilted his head, and, as if he had learned nothing from his past experiences with the _kingsmould_ , he tapped the shell.

        And the teenager felt perfectly fine, nothing bad had happened to his surprise; but in mere fractions of second before he could open his mouth, a sharp pain hit him hard as a tram-train at the back of his head.

        The shadow saw how the child fell face-on into the pile of bones, his eyes lacking now their characteristic scarlet blaze and the red colour now replaced with the pitch-blackness of the void.

…

“My queen!”, a weaver reported, “Still no sign of prince Grimm!”.

        Hornet sighed, _where would that little hell spawn had gotten himself now?_ “Search at Kingdom’s edge”.

        “Yes, highness!”, and so the spider left quicker than how they arrived.

        All of this really took her back, the child always had a tendency to run into trouble, such as when he was kidnapped by The Collector, or when he discovered Nosk’s lair. He was just a toddler back then, of course, but his thirst for adventure had never ceased, thus, she found it essential to teach him how to use his nail properly.

        She would have to admit that feeling of pride she felt whenever the young bug memorized how to do certain technique or invented one of his own, he efficient and fast learner _, just as his…_

        Hornet’s train of thoughts and her very movement stopped at the sight of an orange puddle that formed on the floor; vines of the same colour dangled from the roof and crawled from the walls, the air has grown dense with a mist that weird enough irradiated light…

        _This can’t be…_

        Her heart skipped a beat as she ran towards the temple of the black egg the fastest her legs could take her, the coloured mist thickening as she approached to the chamber.

        _Let it be a mistake…_

        Eyes widened in terror when her assumptions turned out to be truth, from under the gate, what had taken the lives of her siblings threatened to burst out in the form of a vermilion gust of dreadful winds. To seek for weak minds, to promise only lies, to corrupt to their very core… The infection was back.

        _It all had begun once again…_  


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! (❀´♡`)/

The mourning had ceased and now the surroundings preserved tranquil, with no sound to be heard but a male voice at the distance, echoing through the halls. Its familiarity was tranquilizing, almost as if hearing a lullaby (despite its low and rasping tone). Grimmchild found it difficult to open his eyes.

        With mighty force of will, he was barely able to see through a slit, as blurry as it was, he could distinct two shapes: one tall and the other small, one at the floor, other standing aside. The black prevailed in the colours of the couple, but the smaller had an ever so slightly tint of blue while the taller scarlet red underneath, spreading to the tips of the cape which lighted up, burning like fire.

        “You woke up sooner of what I expected…”, the guttural voice echoed weakly, as if struggling to breathe, and still it found the force to laugh ever so slightly. “Yet another unforeseen outcome of our… _little_ performance…”, the one laying said purring.

        A profound, heart-rending, grief could be heard in the slowly fading voice, it made Grimmchild want to cry along despite not being aware the situation…

        He could hear the sound of a material alike to water drip and fall to the floor… crashing against it and splashing on near spots… Black began to overtake the smaller’s — formerly white — face in a deluge of a dark substance, _void…_

        “ _If only it had lasted a bit more…_ But this play had been already prolonged enough, my dearest… And the bittersweet end was unavoidable…”, he cupped the other’s cheek, cleaning off the tears with his thumb. ”For our child to grow, and have the spotlight of his very own show… the curtains shall fall for this humble host… I must be gone, my love…”.

        The youth’s view cleared before it blurred once again, but not for half-closed lids, but the tears on Grimmchild’s eyes. He gulped, “F-father?...”.

        The vessel took the ringmaster’s hand into both of theirs and held it to their chest as the overflowing tears dripped to Grimm’s arm. Its look was almost pleading, as if asking him to stay a bit longer, but both knew deep down that he couldn’t make this single wish come true.

        The leader of the troupe gave his mate a sad smile as his life slowly drained from his body, “Farewell, my one and only. May we meet once again in your dreams”.

        Grimmchild’s sight was engulfed with the flames of the shattering body of his father, the last thing he saw or heard before the scarlet flames completely consumed his range of vision being the embodiment of an abysmal howl of pain in which all the sorrows his other parent could not say manifested into one powerful spell.

        The fire burned bright until there was only white…

        …

Through the eyelids, the light of the lumaflies imprinted on his eyes, slowly erasing the image of his parents. When he straightened up, Grimmchild couldn’t believe he was back at Dirtmouth, sitting on a bench, the one Elderbug usually stood next to.

        He should have fallen asleep when Zote was rambling about himself and left to rest at ease in the solitude of the town while the villagers retired to slumber on their own homes… _Yes, that was probably it._

        Grimmchild stretched his legs to stand up, still shaky for his nightmare. He was surprised with a rattling below his seat: a box full of charms much like the one he owned, solely that this one was missing few, it was just as… _when he just received it from his auntie…_

        Chills crept up his spine, and as this wasn’t already disturbing enough, the youth heard footsteps not too far away; he turned to see the source.

        A small bug stood motionless, watching at Grimmchild’s direction, maybe pensive; the youth could almost feel the pain on their supposedly empty stare.

         “Mum!”, he called out.

        Grimmchild jolted up from the bench, holding out his hand as if trying to reach the small figure, but they could not hear the youth; they turned around and proceeded to jump into the well that led underground.

        “Wait!”, he followed.

        The smaller bug dashed through the path and Grimmchild pursued, just as he remembered he had always done as a child, only, this time, it felt like his parent was running away from him.

        “Mum!”, he called again, running after his parent towards the black egg temple where they had finally decided to take a break on the bench within the darkness. “Mum…”, he repeated breathlessly.

        Grimmchild knelt before his progenitor and rested his head at the seat, at his parent’s side.

       Not much time passed before he noticed void dripping from the vessel’s face to the pseudo-bench, he straigtened up immediately. “Mum?”, he asked worriedly, placing his hand over theirs in an attempt to comfort them, only for it to go through as if he were a spectre.

        The child opened his eyes widely in surprise; his parent stood, their cloak fluttering as they walked deeper into the chamber.

        “N-no…”, Grimmchild froze still, he remembered to have been here before and no more, and then yet again, but only omnipresent, only being able to watch and do nothing.

       He refused to revive this memory again. The major difference between the now and then being that the last he remembered was his parent walking to the opposite direction, towards the exit, _to abandon h-…_  

        Not able to bear these thoughts anymore, he let out a cry of pain that merged with their parent’s abyss shriek and eventually the yowling of yet another being beyond, one who had been sealed for long and now was to be free of its chains again but not from its everlasting sorrow.

        Grimmchild was jolted awake by the cacophony and flashing orange lights; his heart beating fast against his chest and shivers crawling down his spine; his head felt light, and yet as if it were spinning around. The most precise description of how he felt would be… _as if he had been hit by a train._

        When his senses readjusted, the first he noticed was that the white charm over his chest had been now engulfed by darkness and become pitch black much as his own hide or the shades luring before the chamber.

        He tried to take it off to get a better look, but it was of no avail, it was not budging at all. “What’s this?”, he asked out loud but mostly at himself, as it didn’t occur to him that this was the very same charm he had been previously wearing nonetheless done anew.   

        The shadow, his companion, hovered towards him and its tendrils curled around Grimmchild’s hands and nuzzled over them, pushing gently the charm back at him, as imploring the youth to let the charm be; and just then, he noticed how blind he had been.

        At first, he didn’t want to look up to it. He didn’t know if he would be able to handle it. “You…”, he started, his head tilted down and to a side. “ **You** are who **_they_** were looking after”, he concluded after summoning the courage to look at the shadow in the eye, tears on his own. “Mum was trying to find you…”.

       The shadow stared widen eyed, not able to move nor to explain what circumstances would have led to these unfortunate events, nor the dread on its “non-existent” mind (but it was not like if they had ever been able to explain even in a physical form either way).

       “You must had been rather dear to them”, he whispered. For the shadow’s surprise, the youth stood up with his hand loosely over the charm and walked up calm towards it. “One way or another, they freed you…”, he extended his hand towards the shade’s head, it leaned forwards without hesitation.

         Memories of the late vessel flooded his head, of olden times; an epoch before the infection had plagued its mind, previous had been turned into a knight, when it was no more than a child just as his parent — Grimmchild’s — was. He could see through the shadow’s eyes the fateful day when one vessel went with the king and the other was left in a pitch to follow the same destiny as their discarded siblings.

         “You want to make it up for them…”

        The shadow solemn and decisively nodded, the youth returned the gesture, knowing all his relative had done was to aid him, arriving to a mutual decision.

        “We will free mum and stop the infection once and for all”, said the youth with such a confident smile that could almost put at ease the shadow’s dread.

…

       “ _Must find him!”_

        These thoughts repeated over and over again on her head along all the possible catastrophes that could had happened to her nephew while she was away as she searched throughout Deepnest twice over

        A feeling of both relief and anger overtook her when she, at the distance, could hear his voice despite the incessant noises of the Garpedes. In the blink of an eye, she was already by where the adolescent was just crawling out from.

        “Grimmchild. Of. Hallownest! Come right here on this instant!”.

        If her dispelling concern had not blinded her, she’d have noticed the shadow hiding on the youth’s own.

        The rushed to Hornet, and cheerfully called out upon her, “Aunt- Ow!”, only to be received by a strong hold on his right horn.

        “Do not _‘auntie’”_ — said she, mocking her nephew’s tone— "me, young man!”, she scolded with grip and stare respectively harder and colder than the pale ore, but still unstable and trembling, Grimmchild could see through her act.

        “Auntie…”, he called out again, this time softer “What’s wrong?”.

        Few moments passed before his aunt gave up the façade and her grasp and gaze softened with a sigh.

       “Grimm”, she sounded in pain, struggling to speak her words thanks to a knot on her throat. “There is something you must see”. 

       Due to a strong feeling of déjà vu, it was no surprise for the youth when where his aunt led to were the forgotten roads, but, without a doubt, the vermillion coloured breeze —so shiny it burned— was just as dreadful as it had been when he had first seen it as only a young, little, nymph; reviving memories he did not want to remember but neither to forget.

       In a take back to the past, Grimmchild unconsciously shortened the gap between him and his aunt, too anxious to realize a so foreign gesture from the queen’s behalf, as she intertwined her fingers between his to give him a reassuring and gentle squeeze.

       They stepped into the chamber where the temple stood, and the memories of when he was a child flashed into the youth’s mind, not able to repress them any longer nor the reminiscences from even before, when he was still being held tight at the safety of his parent’s arms, and they decided they would be able to look after him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: when you dreamnail the egg shell at the abyss, you don't dremanail "it", but yourself (^:  
> (Also:maybeBayonettahasbeenabadinfluence,oops)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a filler ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> (Alsokindofanexcusetoventmy"thebaby"feelingsfromMetroid,ohohoho)

Ghost stepped forth, the dreamers were dead, the seals broken, the doors to their cursed sibling had opened. Runes lighted up their way through the dark to their fate, their imprisonment.

       _For them_

       They repeated to themselves in a mute voice that only they could hear.

       _For sister, for mother, for siblings, for the child they had brought to this world…_

       They sat at the bench, only few steps away from a dead end.

       _Their dead, their end. The end of the infection._

       Ghost looked down at the charm over their chest: the proof of an unholy union between shadow and scarlet flame; symbol of the fruit of these sins, of their affair, of **_his_** sacrifice. The father had died to give pace to the child, _their_ child. And another sacrifice must yet be made, the ultimate of all of them.

       For new life to sprout, to grow, now both child’s parents must be gone.

       The (for) now king held the charm tight and with a broken heart let the pitch-black tears flow down their face. 

        It hurt to leave the child behind, to make it parentless, to not be able to be there for him anymore when he wanted to cry, or when he needed comfort to sleep.

       The picture of their recently abandoned child popped into their mind, he would be resting at the bench by now, with luck, asleep, unaware of the —although out of compassion— desertion. _If only there had been another way…_

       But there was no way he would be cared by the white lady, and for that way, neither their sister would probably look after the child. The best they could do now was to secure a future for their baby, even if it meant at the cost of their own life.

       They stood up from the bench to seal fate, it was finally time.

       Ghost closed their eyes and sighed, what hurt them the most… was that they won’t be able to see their baby’s smiley face no more once all of this was over. They won’t be able to hold him close and rock him to sleep with his little, cute, tail curled around their arm nor to feel the soft purr against their chest which much remind them of the child’s father.

       And they finally cracked at the thoughts of what the three of them would never be. They let out a howl of pain.       

       Mourning was heard was heard all through Hallownest; Hornet stopped on her tracks, devasted. She knew without doubt that it was too late.

       At best, the infection would had been consumed to be no more, at worst, the kingdom’s fate had only been prolonged, but regardless, its inhabitants would be able to rest easy for now.

       She drew off her needle; for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, found herself wandering to the small, simple and forgotten, town above the underground maze. To her surprise, its people had all come out of their shops and shelters to crowd around a bench underneath the lumaflies’s light, and however it was noisy and in constant (but with limited) movement, Hornet wouldn’t call it _lively_ , but rather _chaotic_.

       “ _Bah!_ Someone shut up that noisy worm! Unbearable pester such as its parent!”, complained an old man that somewhat resembled her sibling.

       “Poor thing”, muttered a girl by his side as he kept on rambling about how an all mighty… someone, needed his beauty sleep.

       “Ah!”, a lady with ambiguous fashion choices said while pulling at her own cheeks (or in singular, as the other was covered by a mask that concealing half her face).

        _What were she trying to do?_

       The question was answered when, much as the distinctive lady, other villager attempted to distract a crying child.

       A tall and beautiful young lady showed it colourful map markers, at her side, a man with small glasses with the cartography of the surroundings while a short fly rattled a bag full of geo and an elder bug shushed and patted the nymph’s back, but nothing seemed to content the little worm; it squirmed and spilled fire, but what called the queen’s attention the most, was its pitch black tears and the abyss shriek it conjured with its every scream.

       Now grown curious, Hornet walked up to the commotion. “Who’s that child?”, she asked to the half-masked lady.

       Almost immediately, she turned with a worried expression to reply, “The son of master Grimm and his mate!”.

       “ _Grimm_?”, Hornet repeated for confirmation.

       The explication was cut short by another of the child’s screams, these bugs too close to the nymph ending up with blackened faces and surprised expressions as, regardless their efforts, the kid’s sorrow only seem to worsen. Afterwards, Hornet could hear the tall lady address the little worm as _Grimmchild_.

       _How creative_.

       “Where are them?!”

       Hornet’s attention shifted back to the half-masked lady. “Who?”.

       “You smell like them! You must know where they are! Where is _it_?!”, she demanded to know, taking Hornet by the shoulders and shaking her as she shot her questions.

       With a huff, the queen pushed her back to break from her hold. “I do not know whom you are talking about”.

       “The master’s mate! The little lovely?”

       Somewhat, it clicked to her. “Little Ghost?”.

       “Ahhhh! Yes! The little lovely! Such a pretty, lovely, couple! Born from the passionate dance of shadow and fire! Truly the vivid image of master!”

       Though the sanity of the lady was questionable to the queen, she seemed to be right. The child cried void tears, and casted spells the same way her sibling did. But she wanted a closer inspection just to make sure…

      She made her way through the crowd and arrived to where the elder bug was with the nymph on his arm; the sight stealing from her a quiet gasp when her eyes laid on the king’s brand at the infant’s chest.

      “May I?”, she directed the question towards the elder holding the child and a gesture towards the (possible) by-product of her sibling’s affair.

       The elder was suspicious of the newcomer; he wasn’t quite fond of strangers on its general, and the nymph — along the precious flower they had given him — was all that remained from his little bench friend after their sudden disappearance, but seeing the gloom on this lady’s face, so full of grieve, he finally decided to hand over the child.

       To the villager’s surprise, Grimmchild ceased his crying almost immediately when the unknown lady held him in arms.

       He curled his tail through the length of Hornet’s arm and nested his face at the crook of her neck, his little heart beat swiftly and shaken against her own, and the queen could only imagine how confused the poor thing could be feeling.

       Either if it was for the shaking news, or her recent loss, she felt a small tug at her heart, almost as if it were melting as she held the little bundle of sadness and warmth.

       One way or another, that nymph was the only remaining of _them_ ; he was all the family she had left.


	9. Chapter 9

“You can’t go…”, there was a tug at her cape.

       “I can, and I will”, she hissed.

       “But why?!”, he yanked harder at his _auntie_ ’s clothes, black tears spurted out from his scarlet eyes with his yelling.

       “As the queen, and as their sibling, it’s up to me to finish off what they couldn’t”, said Hornet standing firmly as she accommodated her needle at her back and prepared to leave, a determined but sad look on her eyes which could easily be mistook for irritation.

       Grimmchild gritted his fangs, “But I’m **their** son! **AND** as **_queen_** , your people **need** you alive and well! Let. Me. **GO**!”, his tears overflowed with every fire explosion produced when he barked and stomped.

       “And you’re the prince. When I’m gone, it will be up to you to rule”, she said in a contrasting cold tone.

       Grimmchild sobbed, “D-don’t say such things…”, he could barely whisper, his embers of fury now turning into a smoke so thick and black than that of the tears which kept to run down his face.

       “My decision is _final_ , Grimm”, she claimed, crossing her arms over her chest.

       He sobbed again, falling to his knees. The adolescent bug leaned into her, headbutting her stomach weakly, staining her cape in void tears and ashes of his extinguished embers as his claws clung into the fabric.

       “P-please…”, he muttered between sobs and tears, “I beg you, d-don’t go…”.

       “I must”.

       Her nephew winced before barking flames again and punching the floor with his fist engulfed in fire.

       “ ** _NO!_** You **DON’T!** ”, the fire died out, “You don’t need to…”.

       “Everyone in Hallownest will die if I don’t”.

       “And **_YOU_** will die if you do!”.

       Both went silent, the only noise being the sobbing of Grimmchild before he talked up.

       “I…”, he wiped his tears with the back of his hand, “I’ve already lost my parents… I don’t want to lose you too, auntie. You are the only one I have got…”.

       With a sigh, she swallowed her pride and knelt to hug her nephew, “And you are the only one I have as well… I have lost my siblings and mother… And wish not to lose you too”.

       He let his head drop on top his aunt’s, tears washed over her but her sole response was to fix Grimmchild’s neck of his cape, the completely red one she had gifted him.  

       “You are the only thing that was left from them… You are their legacy, of both, Grimm and Ghost”.

       The void and scarlet flame hybrid held her hands, Hornet’s still at his clothes. “And as their legacy I must finish what they couldn’t”, Grimmchild said, lifting his gaze into his aunt’s.

       “I couldn’t bear to lose my only nephew”.

       “And you don’t have to”, he sprang up. “Prove me!”.

       She grunted and stood up. “If I win, I will go, and you won’t be able to scurry into the temple. You will stay right here”.

       ”But if I win?”

       ”That won’t happen”.

       “But _IF_?”.

       “…”

       “If I win, I will go in your place. You will stay here and out of this, safe”.

       “Very well…”

       “It’s a deal”.

…

Hornet threw the nail at Grimmchild from a fairly long distance, her dreadful aim making it land right next to her nephew, dug into the near wall. The smallest miscalculation and it would had gone trough his skull, but the adolescent feared not the threat. Decided, he took his nail in hand.

       “The rules are simple.”, she started, “No charms, one on one; soul and spells are allowed, but don’t overuse it”. She placed a delicate flower at his cape before giving him a cold stare. “Break that flower and is over, no _encore_ ”.

       Grimmchild simply nodded with his eyes closed, saying no word nor making any sound, the only thing he had in mind was that he must win for her own sake.

       Hornet walked away and stood across him, she would give him a small handicap: to let him choose when to start.

       “Ready when you are”.

       Grimmchild bowed as sign of respect for both his aunt and the traditions passed down by his father; Hornet returned the gesture by curtsying.

       _It was time_.

       As soon he straightened up, Hornet immediately flung her needle towards him, hopping the move would take Grimmchild by surprise and he won’t be able to avoid the attack; but he answered with an uppercut.

       Just when her needle came back, fireballs showered all around the battle arena; by luck, she avoided them and still had time to jump above Grimmchild when he slid through the floor with a low kick.

       At a fair distance, Hornet threw her needle again as he recovered. He barely was able to teleport away, he could see the tip of the weapon only millimetres away from his face.

       She looked around, not sure where his nephew was to pop out, so she whipped her thread all around her.

       Grimmchild appeared at the other edge of the room and in the blink of the eye ran towards her with a dash slash. He cut through the thread easily but didn’t land the hit as she stepped backwards.

       The adolescent pressed onwards, Hornet blocked, giggling, and with help of the wall and a counterattack jumped behind him, he disappeared right at the moment her needle was to stab him.

       Knowing to repeat her last technique would be risky, so she summoned spiked balls all around the arena, suspending them mid-air with yarn. Grimmchild almost crashed into one when appearing back, she could see how his eyes had widened in surprise.

       She rushed for the hit of grace but just then the youth’s cape sank into the floor, spiked void tendrils with fire roses erupted out from the dirt.

       Hornet backed off; now, having won himself a bit of spare time and had gotten rid of the obstacles, he decided to teleport to a safer spot away from his aunt.

       The queen knew her nephew, and knew he was up to something; she would have to act fast, so he held tighter into her needle.

       It was not a surprise when he appeared once more opening his cloak for fire bats to fly directly towards Hornet.  

       She jumped as high as she could and lunged towards the teen with her grip tight around her needle; quickly, Grimmchild drew his nail and both weapons clashed with a blinding silver blink.

       White petals covered the floor and their panting filled the air; they looked at each other silently, both reaching for their own flowers at the same time.

       Hornet’s heart stopped: Grimmchild’s flower was intact, which meant…

       She looked in disbelief at her broken flower.

       Grimmchild had won, and he would have to go.

       She fell to her knees, this couldn’t be…

       Her nephew gasped, “Auntie!”. He rushed to her side, throwing his nail aside and held her up by the shoulders. “Are you okay?! Did I hurt you?!”.

       “Yes”.

       “Let me see the wound!”, he took her by the cape, but she immediately slapped his hands away.

       “Not in that manner”.

       He merely blinked, the comment had taken him off from guard.

       “You will have to go there and face the source of the infection all alone. And then, just like them, you will be gone”.

       “Aunt…”, he hugged her tight. “It never could be helped; the entrance has been sealed with no dreamer. I’m the only one who can make it in at this point”.

       “I could had found another way”.

       He held her hands. “You said it yourself.”, ever so slightly, he came closer to her. “I’m their legacy, it was fate”.

       “You will die”.

       “Not even my life is a price too great”.

       Saying no more, Hornet threw her arms around her nephew’s neck. Grimmchild could feel void tears soaking his capes.

       Attempting to reassure his aunt, he patted her back to let her know it was fine to cry. Not even her could be strong all the time.

       “Just come back safe, you enormous idiot!”.

…

       Hornet sat down on the cold, hard, floor hugging tight a silly little doll Grimmchild had given her so many years ago when he was only a child. It was difficult to process how her nephew had grown so fast…

       It appeared like just yesterday he was still a baby: curling his tail at her arm and meowing loudly to call her attention.

       She remembered when he was starting to talk… After hours of trying her best to teach him she cursed out loud in frustration and, to her misfortune, it had been the only word the child didn’t fail to replicate. Needless to say, she swore to don’t say any of the likes ever again.

       The queen giggled to herself.

       Or that time he had gotten sick and could not stop setting things on fire. She had grown so worried… For once, she had no idea what to do. So relieved she was to learn it was nothing but a mere cold.

       Her train of thoughts stopped for a moment, having sworn to see a shadow at her visual range.

       “I know you are here”, she stopped briefly. “Brother”.

       The hollow knight’s shadow manifested finally before her.

       “You have my gratitude for looking after him”.

       They merely bowed to let her know it had been no problem at all.

       “Although I have one last request for you, but perhaps I might be asking too much… Knowing your former situation with the old light”.

       The shade tilted their head, curious to hear what their sister had to say.

       “Look after him once more”.

       They seemed hesitant at first, but finally nodded.

       “Thanks”.

       The conversation meeting an end, the shadow dismissed.  

       Now all alone, her sight drifted to the white flower decorating her cape, over her chest. The flower that had marked her nephew as the winner on their match…

       Looking up at the ceiling, she saw said bug peacefully sleeping.

       “Please wake up soon…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this thing is not dead yet!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing is not freaking dead yet!!!!

At first, it was completely dark, no light but the one of his eyes and perhaps the occasional bloom of red essence. Many times had he heard of the corridors to nightmare realm from histories of aunt Divine and even Brumm, but none told them better than father.

       He remembered been on father’s tent, resting peacefully in the security of his parents’ arms, wrapped tight at their cloaks as father told him stories of his travels to far lands away from Hallownest, moving through the realms of the asleep, even extending to that of when two kingdoms were still one: nightmare and dream.

       Once upon a time, both coexisting at the other’s side, dualities meant to complement one another, opposites and yet the same: fire and light, darkness and bright; until the goddess, the sister, decided to end it all.

       Nothing more than one nasty quarrel of siblings, or so was it, but things got out of hand, turning into one slaughter rather than a simple rivalry, which, eventually, lead to the nightmare heart being severely wounded between other misfortunes and atrocities; even not so linked ones as the infection.

       But that was a story no one really liked to talk about, and more or less of what he knew was thanks to auntie Hornet; stories she would tell him as a young nymph to get him to shut up about wanting his mum back.

       Now as an older bug he knew better. His so called “mum” wasn’t coming back, but he could understand the measure of their sacrifice. Nonetheless, it didn’t make the pain of their loss any gentler.

       Regardless his feelings, there was no time for grieving, what — in one way or another — had taken his parents away was back, and he knew "the source" won’t be happy to see a bastard child of the two things she swore to destroy.

       Grimmchild stopped on his tracks with that thought in mind, not out of fear by the goddess herself, but rather the idea of not being enough. Both his parents had failed at stopping her and even his grandparents had been unsuccessful.

       What if story were to repeat itself? He knew auntie Hornet had been preparing him for the future, yet, he doubted it was _this_ future. Not even he knew what to do, he had been impulsive but it was not like there was any other answer: if it was not him, it would be auntie Hornet or even whole Hallownest! It was only the right thing, not only for the kingdom, but as legacy of his parents as well.

       Eventually, as he mentally prepared himself, the surroundings were engulfed by golden beams and dream essence such as cottony white clouds: he had entered the dream realm.

       Carefully, he skipped through the platforms easily, not minding them much, there were other things to worry about, such as his lack of a plan of attack, but if father had taught him something was to improvise.

       Upon reaching the highest point, the teen puffed out his chest, still telling himself he knew what he was doing. Perhaps if he showed confidence, eventually he would believe it himself. Grimmchild drew his nail, standing tall, and with the most dauntless tone he could muster he called out for the sovereign of the dream realm.

       “Radiance! I’ve come to challenge you!”.

       In the distance, a spark brighter than the light surrounding them, a silhouette of the goddess herself, flapping her wings previously making her apparition before the child of void and scarlet flame.

       “My, my… What do we have here?“, she asked paying a closer look to the lanky teenager as to see with her own eyes if this creature upon her was real. “I thought you were dead. What a persistent bug you are, honey”, she concluded now picking him up on her wing into a constricting grasp.

       Grimmchild squirmed and hissed, trying to free himself from her grip, fearing not the fall, but the goddess continued her inspection on him, realizing now at closer look, that not only was this bug younger of what she expected, but this was not the Grimm she had known at all! These lines down his eyes... they were way too pitch black, and so was his hide.  Her eyes widened, a feeling of dread crawled up her back, could this be... void?

       Despite being the son of a man of theatre, he didn’t like this spotlight under the goddess’ eyes one bit. The teen recurred to one last resource: to heat up enough to give her one nasty burn. She immediately let go of Grimmchilf and retreated her wing towards her chest.

       In no time, the boy was back standing and holding up his nail towards her, giving her one serious gaze that only reminded her of his predecessor due to one tiny spark of fire, but that posture of his, with nail at hand, was rather one of a knight, an insignificant pest that had been mindless enough to challenge her. But it must had been impossible, as if that unholy union was to be, void would eventually eat away the scarlet flames. Only one thing was indisputable.

        “But of course, I should had known better, what else could I have expected from _his_ child”. There was no other possible answer for them to be so alike and yet so different, and although still unsure about the other half of the teen, as a part of her wanted not to believe it, Radiance knew she was dealing with the nightmare’s offspring at the very least.

       “Have anyone ever told you that you have his eyes?”, she asked in fake sweet tone referring to the king of fire and nightmare. Grimmchild must admit her actuation was rather dapper, but he could see through it.

       "I'm not here to chat, ma'am". He answered, skipping the question, his gaze slightly sharpening and voice unnaturally cold — or it would be supposing he was only his father’s child and not a vessel’s as well.

       “Sure thing, sweetie”, Radiance said back at her condescending tone of voice. “Little baby wants to avenge his daddy, is it not?”, the goddess said now as mock before adding “How cute” in the most sarcastic, spiteful, tone she could muster as she placed a wing over her hips.   

       Beginning to get short in patience, Grimmchild aimed at her with a dash slash enhanced with the fire of his clan. To his surprise, is was not of much avail. The flames dispersed as soon they met with the goddess’s legs with a blink of light, as if the nail had hit against metal instead.

       Grimmchild looked up at the goddess in disbelief and, most than anything, confusion over had done not even a single scratch. What the heck were that lady’s legs made of?!

       Soon afterwards, Radiance simply slapped him out of her way: hard enough to send him off near the platform’s edge but not to leave any bad damage, she wished not to show her real strength just yet, as she wanted to measure the danger this child represented for her. Already had she disposed of his ancestor and the very creatures _made_ to defeat her. A lanky teen won’t be such a threat unless proven otherwise, but until then, she didn’t want to dirt her fur.

       The flaps of Grimmchild’s capes separated with the hit, revealing the mark of his birth right over Hallownest, the king’s brand, symbol of the Wyrm and his lineage.

       “So you are really child of theirs…”, she said gazing over the heir of not only nightmare realm, but her stolen kingdom as well.

       Regardless her cold-minded appearance, her blood was boiling. The nightmare had survived long enough to produce an offspring with a child of the Wyrm! How could have he fallen so low?! And most importantly, what would it mean _for her?!_

       Wishing not to take any risks, a malicious smile appeared underneath her thick pelt as a plan occurred to her; a plan so devilishly sweet that not even the child would be able to go against it. In the blink of the eye, the goddess teleported before the kid.

       “Stand up, child”. She offered her wing for the teen, but he immediately slapped it away.

       “Don’t touch me”, he hissed before — with a leap — standing back up, flames scattering underneath his feet.

        Radiance grunted. “Such a drama queen, just as your father”, she visibility rolled her eyes in irritation. “You needed to learn few lessons, young man.”, the space between them had grown now closer.  “Luckily for you, I’m willing to fill your little head with my knowledge “, she said patting the top of his head. “You will thank me later”.

        Grimmchild huffed scarlet flames at her and pushed her wing away from him. “I have no reason to do so”.

        Though unimpressed, she still felt offended. “Young one, I do not understand why wouldn’t you appreciate your own aunt’s words of wisdom”.

        “Don’t call yourself aunt of mine”, the teen interrupted.

        Minding his words little attention, she continued. “Hear me out, child. I can make it _all_ better for you and everyone around you, my cute, little, nephew”. Her tone grew increasingly unsettling with each pause.

        Grimmchild stood up and fixed his cape, looking dead in the eye at the goddess as he did, eyes furrowed. “Nothing you can do will fix the damage you’ve already caused”, he said fearing her not, drawing again his nail but merely to keep her at bay long enough to find one weak spot.

        “Sweetie, don’t you know who you’re talking to? I can make everyone’s dreams come truth if I so desired, won’t that be just wonderful?”.

        “Don’t”, he replied dryly, not willing to continue with the conversation any longer. 

        “I insist”, Radiance purred with one cheeky grin under her mat of pelt. “Starting with you, darling”. Dream essence begun eating at the teen. “Say ‘ _hello_ ’ to your mommy from my part”.

        Grimmchild opened his eyes widely beginning to panic, the more anxious he grew the faster the golden dream essence consumed him to force him out the moth’s realm.

        Radiance chuckled. “Not like I need you for that, of course”, Grimmchild could barely hear these last words from her as he was woken up.

        After opening his eyes, he was laying back down on a floor as cold as ice. There was no spider web to be seen anywhere, and the room seemed quite larger. The air was thick and heavy much as its somber atmosphere. 

        Guessing Radiance must had forced him to travel through the dream realm, as he knew he was not at his room at Deepnest anymore. He wasn’t quite sure where he would have woken up; walking through the worlds of the unconscious was still fairly new to him and knew little to nothing of how the teletransportation through them worked, but it was the least of his concerns.

        Sitting up, he noticed — indeed — this was not the room he had last left at, but rather a place that looked both unknown to him and yet somehow familiar, as it only had it been one distant dream of eons ago. Darkness prevailed in said room, unless for one spot that had caught his eye.

        Trailing up from the base of few chains to the ceiling, between the shadows, there was a dreadful orange light, and the source which it emanated from was no other than a figure hanging from these metallic bounds, concealed, barely moving…

        It was his parent, Ghost.


End file.
